


Voyeurism

by witchpointe



Category: VIXX
Genre: Bondage, Dirty Talk, M/M, Smoking, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2020-03-14 18:30:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18953356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witchpointe/pseuds/witchpointe
Summary: a birthday present for lex. ❤Then the idea comes to him, heating his belly and his cheeks at the same time. He has an audience to show off for.





	Voyeurism

Hongbin sits cross-legged on the bar stool, sighing into his third glass of whiskey of the night. He's been staring at the same stack of booze bottles behind the bar, turning down men and women all night. It isn't that he thinks he's too good for them, it's just that he's looking for something in particular. Something different. He feels the need for it crawling against the inside of his skin.

But he doesn't know why he thought he'd find it in a bar. One of his regulars, at that. He's tired of the tinny music beating against his ears and the alcohol is making his limbs heavy. He closes his eyes and leans his head into his hand, running it through his hair. Fuck it. He'll go home and jerk off to thoughts of a dark stranger holding him down, berating him, taking from him until there's nothing left. The usual.

He exits the bar to the cool night air, breathing relief from the body heat and noise. A few feet away he finds an empty wooden bench and sits, pulling out his pack of cigarettes. The first drag feels heavenly as only the mix of booze and nicotine does, and Hongbin hangs his head backward, blowing smoke up into the stars.

“May I borrow a light?”

Raising an eyebrow at the proper speech, Hongbin rights his head to see the intruder. A lithe torso offers delicate limbs, a pretty face, and amused eyes that, although dark brown like his, seem to somehow glow in the relative darkness.

He holds up his lighter without a word. Careful not to touch his fingers, the man takes the lighter. The flame illuminates his cheekbones, his dark skin, the curve of his downturned eyes, only for a flash before it's gone. Sitting on the far side of the bench, he reaches to hand Hongbin's lighter back.

Hongbin makes a waving motion with his hands. “Keep it.”

“Thank you.”

“No problem.”

Slowly finishing his cigarette, Hongbin realizes that he’s waiting. Waiting for the stranger to say something, to initiate conversation--to proposition him. The stranger instead stays eerily quiet, relaxed and muted in his movements as if Hongbin isn’t there at all. Finishing his cigarette first, Hongbin sighs and stands to stomp it out. He wants to look back, but his pride won’t let him.

The walk home is only three blocks, but tonight they seem to stretch on forever. The trees caged in their wrought iron grates all look the same as he passes them. Neon signs blur together until they’re nothing but meaningless light. He’s sure he’s being watched; but when he turns around he sees nothing but the usual: drunks, tourists, street vendors. None of them giving him any sort of attention at all. He resumes his walk, albeit a little faster.

The invisible eyes follow him home, up the steps to his apartment, past the locked door and through the hallway. Then into his apartment. He leans back against his door, sweating. There isn’t possibly anyone who could be watching him here in his dark apartment and yet the feeling crawling across his back and in the pit of his stomach tells him otherwise.

Shaking his head, Hongbin grabs the back of his shirt and lifts it over his head. Once it’s fully off, he uses it to wipe the sweat off his forehead then discards it on the floor, walking over to flop himself onto the couch with a loud exhale.

As his eyes adjust to the low light coming through the blinds behind him, he searches the corners of the room. Everything is just as he left it. And yet the oppressive feeling of another presence won’t leave him alone. He bites at the loose skin on his lip. This is ridiculous. He’s drunk, drunker than he thinks, that’s got to be it--

Then the idea comes to him, heating his belly and his cheeks at the same time. He has an audience to show off for.

The thought has his hand over his cock, pushing down while he lifts into the touch. He closes his eyes and moans, testing the sound in the empty apartment. He’s always quiet when he jerks off, and the sound of his own needy voice makes him bite his lip harder. Unbuttoning his jeans, he cups himself against his boxers and breathes through a “yes,” and this time it sparks excitement across his spine, imagining all the types of men that could be watching him.

Playing with the elastic band against his stomach, he thinks how eager the eyes on him must be to see the rest of him. Smirking, head rested on the back of the couch, he pushes his clothing down and off, arching in a way that's almost uncomfortable--but he's sure looks good.

He almost thinks he hears the intake of breath.

He slinks down the couch a little, ruffling his hair and throwing one hand behind him. The other runs down his chest, flows over the planes of his stomach, and curves to run down the inside of his thigh.

“Do you want me to touch myself?” he asks aloud, barely more than a whisper.

Yes.

The answer is low and demanding, drowned out almost entirely by the buzz of traffic and people outside. Hongbin's hand freezes for a second, but then he's melting back into the moment along with his drowsy buzz, running his hand along his thigh.

Slowly, he licks every finger from palm to fingertip. There's a static in the air that keeps his spine straight and his ears on edge, waiting, listening. It's an expectant silence and he wants to perform for it.

He strokes himself slow, savoring the chilling sensation of being watched. Groaning, he looks down at his cock pushing through his fist and licks his lips. He's so worked up already and he aches for more, for a stranger's hands bruising his hips, their tongue sliding against the hard line of his shaft. 

Just as he thumbs his slit he feels it, tendrils of cold smoke that slither around his neck and pull his head back. The sensation, feather-light at first, hardens until it feels as if he's being ensnared by tiny snakes.

He seethes, body going still. He can feel his heart pound through his ears and down his arms. More tendrils slide down his arm and curve onto his hands, jerking them to his side and securing them in place. Hongbin shakes his head and blinks over and over.

A face appears to his right, touching him cheek-to-cheek. With the tendrils strong around his neck he can't turn to face it. 

“Let me do that for you,” the voice says, low and appreciative in his ear.

This is a dream, a hallucination, and one that he wants so very badly as he watches a thick rope of black slide over his shoulder and down his chest. It curls around his cock and constricts until he's biting into his lip to stave off the pain.

“Don't hold it in, beautiful.”

Soft flesh, a hand, slides along his jaw and grasps his chin, pulling it down. His muffled noises of exertion turn into heavy pants laced with whines. The tendril on his cock begins to squirm in an unfamiliar manner--not unlike the tightness of a throat but cold and spasming in a wholly different way. Hongbin's eyes roll back as his hips raise into the air.

“Yes,” the voice breathes, and the huff of warm air on his face is real, too real. The tendrils along his body shimmer in the low light, and Hongbin shivers against the coiled constraints. The heat inside him is building, fueled by the distant shame he feels for getting off to--whatever this is.

Suddenly he's let loose, and Hongbin desperately moans with the loss.

“Get on the ground.”

He slides down to the carpet on his knees without a second thought. Soundlessly, his visitor rounds the couch to face him, and Hongbin's legs tingle when he sees the face of the cigarette-stranger from earlier.

“You,” he whispers, feeling dizzy, and entirely satisfied to be on his knees, feeling small.

He looks exactly as he left him--except for the six smoky black tendrils undulating out from his back. The stranger crowds against him, fisting his hair and shoving his face against his belt. Hongbin sneaks his tongue out and tastes the tang of the black leather. Without thinking, he puts his hands behind his back, grasping his own wrist.

“So eager,” the stranger says with an amused hum, running his fingertips across Hongbin's cheekbone.

Hongbin only has enough time to register a tendril coming toward his face before he's face-down, cheek pressed into the carpet. Two more lift his hips and another swirls around his wrists, locking them into place at his lower back.

Warm hands spread his ass open to the air and he whines to be so exposed, wiggling and shifting backward. The stranger is on his knees and Hongbin hears the sound of spitting. Saliva slides down across his hole and he clenches against nothing.

“Do it, please,” he whines, the need to be filled hazing his mind into pure lust.

Cool laughter rings from behind him. “Do what pretty human?”

A tendril curves along his stomach and licks at the tip of his dripping cock.

“Fuck--fuck me.”

Something cold and slick teases at his rim.

“Look at you,” the voice coos, “so open and hungry for me.”

Hongbin opens his mouth to agree, but another tendril shoves into his mouth, twining around his tongue. It expands until his jaw aches with the pressure and he gives up, letting his mouth go slack and drooling onto the floor.

“Shhh.” The tendril at his hole pushes in. “Don't interrupt.”

Pressure against his cock twirls as his ass fills up. He groans, feeling the rumble in his chest. His hands unclench as if to reach for something, but his bondage is hard as stone and he relaxes them again. His neck and shoulders ache with the angle of his body.

“Do you beg all the men that break into your apartment to fuck you?”

The tendril in his ass grows bigger and swirls, sending shocks of pleasure down his legs and to his toes. He tries to curse, biting lightly into the appendage in his mouth. The stranger hisses.

“You love this.” Two more tendrils encircle his thighs and pull them farther apart, as much as his forgotten jeans will let them. “My tentacles filling all your aching holes. I bet you're going to come, aren't you?”

A hand joins the tendril on his cock and pumps him hard and fast, making him fuck himself back onto the other tendril. It licks at his prostate, slow and deliberate like a tongue, and he's nodding wildly, forgetting already what he's agreeing to.

The stranger lowers himself to the ground to look Hongbin in the eyes. “Do it. Come on the floor with your stuffed ass in the air like the worthless whore you are.”

Hongbin screws his eyes shut and yells against the tendril in his mouth as he comes, feeling disgusting and ashamed and more turned on than he ever has in his life. His muscles tense and lock and he's trembling with the effort, still staring into the dark face of the stranger watching him intensely.

Then, all at once every sensation is gone, and he collapses alone on the floor of his apartment gasping for air.

“W-wait,” he chokes out. Getting to his knees, he looks around, but it's quiet and the feeling of eyes on him is gone. “Fuck.”

His head is pounding and he feels nauseous. Slowly, he moves to clean both himself and his floor, shaking his head at himself. A tentacle monster? He knew his fantasies could be depraved, but where did that come from?

He pulls himself up by the coffee table only to realize that there, standing in the center, is his lighter.

**Author's Note:**

> as the tags imply, i imagined this as nbin but feel free to make mr. tentacle anyone you want :D
> 
> come say hi on [twitter](http://twitter.com/vampiresanghyuk)


End file.
